How I tried to save Beit Mishegas, and failed

This essay is going to have a surprising conclusion, for me as well as you, dear reader. A few years ago I single-handedly tried to save my synagogue, “Beit Mishegas” (House of Nutjobs), from itself. It was a heroic gesture, and it failed.
Beit Mishegas had decided to renovate its 1956-era building. BM is located in a wealthy mixed-housing suburb just at the tip of the city. It’s a stable, beautiful community with a police division nearby, the only kosher senior care facility in town, and the JCC, Federation and Jewish day school close by. A wealthy member hired a well-known synagogue architect from New York to draw up plans, and also footed the bill for a professional fund-raising consultant. The board held several town meetings to get congregational “input” on the plans.
The campaign raised an incredible $7.3 million in pledges. This is simply a staggering amount for our medium-sized midwestern shul. Every time I went to synagogue I glanced with amazement at the fund-raising thermometer next to the tripod with the architect’s rendering. It was thrilling to see the red line bursting past the goal. The congregation was as excited as if it were facing an expensive caterer’s buffet at a bar mitzvah kiddish.
That was the high point in the synagogue’s campaign. Then a cabal of members who favored relocation rather than renovation was allowed to hijack the campaign. For more than two years they struggled to change the collective mind of the board. There were more town meetings, some which included pseudo-demographics. Outraged members withdrew pledges, quit the synagogue or in general stayed around, but were demoralized.
About a year into this mess I could see where things were headed. As a member of the board, I wanted to do something to save BM from itself. I crafted a motion to thank those who worked so hard to study relocation, but to continue the renovation plans. Word got out about the motion and the board meeting room was packed. The discussion was one of the most depressing experiences I have ever had on a board or committee–and they’re usually depressing enough.
The rabbi, who privately had been supportive, expressed different views than what he’d told me. We’re a lay board, and those with more experience argued the dreaded “we need more time for study” argument. I’ve since decided that this rational-seeming argument is the death of good ideas. In the end, the question was called and no one voted for my motion–not even my second. And Beit Mishegas was destined for two more years of declining membership and “wait and see” maneuverings.
My feelings were deeply hurt and my emotions raw. I quit the board soon after. I gave up the chair of the Tikkun Olam committee. I watched most of my closest synagogue friends, many of the more spiritually involved, spiritually hip people, leave for the other conservative synagogue in town. I stopped chanting Torah. My wife and I debated whether to leave the synagogue as well. So far I’ve decided to stay–as part of a continuing, but failing, experiment in trying to produce cultural change. This synagogue has become–with a few bright exceptions–stubbornly institutionalized, opaque in its procedures, poor in communication, classist, and inelestic when it comes to new ideas.
More than two years after my original motion, the board finally voted to renovate. But in comparison it’s a modest plan of $2 million. New seats, air conditioning, carpet and an entranceway. Part of the modesty is due to an inability to raise more funds. The other part is that those favoring renovation are still active and now just biding their time.
I looked to the Torah for inspiration. Reading over our foundation stories, what did I see? Most of them do not rely on miraculous plagues, parting of seas, semi-miraculous post-menopausal pregnancies. Instead, God’s will seems to be worked out strictly on a human level–often involving trickery, deceit–stolen birthrights, selling your brother into slavery, calling your wife your sister, lying to Pharaoh about your ultimate intentions, and so on. Our stories don’t just seem to report these events–they celebrate them. I believe the attitude is that these, what we might call ethically questionable maneuvers, are appropriate for a small people pitted against a larger opponent. The patriarchs and matriarchs would have been quite effective on BM’s board.
The failure of my motion has affected my spiritual life in ways I still feel today. I’ve held onto my idealism so long (which is why I haven’t been able to belong to institutions for so long!). Maybe its time to shed the ideals and live in the human world. It seems rather ludicrous to conclude that the Torah teaches borderline behavior. But on the other hand, the failure to save Beit Mishegas from itself was part of my spiritual education. And it does seem that what I learned is this: as long as people are in charge, they will pursue underhanded means to succeed at their causes. What the Torah seems to say is that if your cause is just, you are permitted to use some ruses de guerre to accomplish your goals. The mitzvot limit such behavior, but within those limits there is some room for human maneuvering.